The Strangest Thing
by Missy Merla
Summary: Trowa realizes he is in love with Quatre, after already making plans to infiltrate OZ. Now, he must survive his mission and get back to Quatre as soon as possible. But things get tough when a new Colonel takes an unusual interest in him... 1X2 3X4
1. PROLOGUE

~ PROLOGUE~

It was the strangest thing, when Trowa realized that he was in love with Quatre.

He had already decided, weeks ago, that he was going to infiltrate OZ. Everything had been planned to the last minute detail. Where he would register, where he would start basic, who might be his commanding officer. Everything. OZ had to go down and this was his only chance to make that happen. Nothing could change his plans.

But now, the temptations to blow it all off was eating at the back of his mind; slowly gnawing at his resolve. It wasn't until today that he'd allowed himself the privilege of fantasizing about staying with Quatre and now he couldn't get the thoughts out of his mind. He had something-no, someone to lose now.

If he didn't leave tonight, he might change his mind; and that was unacceptable, which meant that things were going to get complicated, especially if he carried out his next plan; to tell Quatre how he felt. Never in his life, had he understood the need for confessions. Why tell someone something that won't change anything about the situation? It was silly and unnecessary. But now he knew why and he was—for the first time in his life—hurting with the need to speak.

Quatre wouldn't feel the same. Trowa knew. Who could love an emotionless, no-name jerk like him? Also, Quatre was an expressive person and Trowa was certain that if the blonde had felt the same about him there would have been some indication. Trowa was good at reading others' emotions and he could read Quatre better than anybody. But, he still had to tell him. Logic had nothing to do with it.

"Would you like another glass?"

"Of course!" Duo Maxwell exclaimed as he held out his expensive crystal wine glass. Together they were all staying in an abandoned cabin in the woods—a safe-house on Earth in the middle of nowhere. Just for a few days though, until they all went to their next mission.

Trowa narrowed his eyes and glared at the braided boy as Quatre poured him yet another glass of wine. Why wouldn't Maxwell just go away? Heero had already retreated to his bedroom and Trowa was shocked that Duo hadn't left immediately to go and bother him. The boy had been at Heero's side nonstop since their arrival two days ago.

"So, how are things? With... you know?" Quatre asked.

"Well..." Duo stared at the dying fire, a far off look in his eyes.

"Not so good?" The sympathy in Quatre's eyes was overflowing.

"I'm not really sure." Duo's eyes flicked to Trowa's and Trowa held his gaze. He knew the boy wouldn't open up right now; not in front of him. He wasn't supposed to know what they were talking about, but he did. Duo was in love with Heero; and Heero was oblivious. Or at least, pretended he was oblivious. How he knew that, Trowa couldn't explain. It was just obvious to him.

"Well," Quatre turned to look at Trowa, as if he'd forgotten the boy's presence. Trowa was used to that confused, ditsy look and he really wished the blonde would look at him with _different_ eyes.

"I'm sure we can talk about it tomorrow."

"Yeah, sure." Duo sighed and downed the rest of his drink.

_Finally._

"I guess I'll go to bed now. We gotta get up early." Duo set his glass on the wooden coffee table and tossed the wool blanket resting on his lap onto the floor. Quatre stared at his half-empty glass of wine and then at Trowa.

"Maybe I should retire too."

Trowa shrugged and took a sip of his wine, making it obvious that he wasn't planning on ending the night quite yet. Sitting beside Quatre, sharing a wool blanket across from the fireplace was a perfect situation for what he knew he needed to do. It was the perfect setup, if Maxwell would just hurry up and leave.

"Welp." Duo sighed and stretched, "See you guys in the morning. Don't party too hard." and he was gone. For a moment, all Trowa could hear was the crackle of the fire.

"So how are _you_?" Trowa asked. It sounded cheesy coming out of his own mouth—but he had no idea how to start a confession. _How in the hell am I going to do this?_ Quatre didn't seem to think the question odd, though.

"I'm alright. Just nervous I guess."

Trowa watched the blonde, but Quatre's eyes were locked on his wineglass and he seemed to slip into another world within his mind. Most likely, he was dying with nerves about everyone else's missions tomorrow because that was how he was; he worried about everything. Trowa had everyone under the impression that he was headed out to fight a platoon in Australia. Of course, he was actually headed to L1 to join OZ as a colonist—but he couldn't tell them that. Quatre was headed to L4 for some political maneuvering with his father and honestly Trowa had no idea where Heero and Duo were headed. He hadn't cared enough to ask.

"Don't be nervous." Was all Trowa could think to say.

"I'm always worried about you guys before a mission."

"Well, don't be. I can handle myself and Duo and Heero are perfectly capable of taking care of themselves too."

"I know. But anything could go wrong."

Trowa was quiet. It was true, he wasn't going to argue. But, mostly his mind was reeling with thoughts on how to switch the conversation in his intended direction. Quatre turned to look at him, his eyes glistening in the fire light.

"You never worry, do you?" He said it like it was a fact of life.

"I do." Trowa said.

"What do you worry about?"

"Lots of things."

Quatre turned his head to the side, waiting for an explanation. Finally he prompted, "Liiiike?"

"Like..." Trowa didn't know how to start it. Should he just come out and say it? It seemed wrong, to confess like that. So tactless. So sudden. But what else could he do? Quatre was waiting.

"Like... what you'll think."

"What I'll think?" Quatre frowned, "About what?" Trowa shrugged and set his wine on the coffee table. He reached over and took Quatre's glass out of his hand and set it down in an attemp to get Quatre's full attention. But, he didn't need to try anymore, he already had it and it was freaking him out. His mind was a blank. Finally he turned to stare into Quatre's eyes.

They were so blue. So expectant. And Trowa didn't know what to say. _I like you—no, I love you._ It just sounded so simple. Those words were too small to express his feelings. They didn't do his feeling justice. Quatre had a concerned look in his eyes now.

"Is everything alright?"

"I... don't know."

"Well, tell me. You can tell me anything."

Trowa couldn't say it; he'd never been good with words and this was no exception. Sighing, he stared into Quatre's eyes and felt as his heart speed up. More than anything, he wanted to be close to Quatre and he was terrified this might push the boy away. But, for once, he had to express himself; even though he knew the risks.

Slowly, he reached out and ran his hand through Quatre's hair, resting it at the back of the boy's head. Before Quatre could register what was happening, Trowa leaned in and caught the boy's lips in his. The kiss lasted an entire three seconds before Quatre stiffened and pulled away, his eyes wide with shock.

"Trowa—I—"

Trowa had nothing to say. The kiss had said it all and now all he could do was wait.

"I don't know what to say."

Trowa didn't know what to say either. Maybe this hadn't been the best way to express himself. But it was done and over with—now he just had to hope.

"I..." Quatre looked shaken, "I didn't know you felt like this..."

Silence.

Quatre stared down at his hands for a moment and finally opened his mouth to speak, "I've never thought of us like that..."

Trowa's heart broke in two and suddenly he didn't want to be here anymore. Of course he'd expected things to go like this. But he hadn't been prepared for how it might make him feel. Which was horrible; and he wanted to leave—now. A lump caught in his throat and he couldn't swallow.

"I'm sorry." Quatre whispered, a shaking in his voice like he might cry. Trowa felt like he could cry, too. So he just nodded and attempted to appear understanding. Certainly his mask was cold and emotionless as always—but Quatre had to have some idea as to how hurt he was right now. How could he not? Before the blonde could say another word, Trowa stood up, pulled on his coat, and headed for the door. No need to sleep—he could head out right now.

"Trowa." Quatre said.

Trowa stopped by the door and turned to face him.

"Where are you going?"

"I have a mission." Trowa managed to say around the welling pain in his chest. His heart felt like it was burning the inside of his chest with acid. To say the least, it hurt like hell. Quatre seemed pained,

"You have to leave tonight?" Trowa tried to speak, but he realized he had no idea what he wanted to say. So he just nodded. A silence filled the air. It felt like forever before Quatre spoke.

"Please be careful." Trowa turned and headed out the door—closing it as gently as he could behind him, fighting the urge to slam it. Long ago, he'd learned to keep his composure no matter what. It was habit now. As he walked down the steps he exhaled loudly and watched his frozen breath float into the night sky. Slowly, he dragged his feet down the trail to his jeep. Over and over he replayed the kiss in his mind. Maybe he should have just spoken? But, would that really have changed anything? Quatre had said exactly what Trowa had already known to be true.

_"I've never thought of us like that..."_ Of course things had turned out this way. Everything had gone exactly as he'd predicted. So why in the hell was he so upset?


	2. OZ

Trowa awoke with his Commander leaning over him. Last night, he had fallen asleep straight on his back and here he was, still straight on his back on the thin hard cot that OZ had issued him almost a month ago. His Commander's brow was creased and a frown was contorting his face.

"Barton." was all the Commander said.

Trowa jumped out of bed and stood at attention, dressed only in his boxers. The room was drafty and the cool metal floor gave him a shiver. Inwardly, he sighed. All Commander Scott ever did was make trouble. The instant Trowa had joined the Alpha squadron Scott had been out to get him. Weak people were inherently terrified of the strong, and Trowa knew that this man was a weak person.

"Lieutenant Colonel Treize Khushrenada wants to see you in his office immediately." He was almost smirking and seemed much perkier than he usually did this early in the morning. Trowa glanced around the barracks at his sleeping comrades then looked at Scott with a raised eyebrow. Why would the Colonel want a private audience with _him_; a lowly cadet?

"He's probably finally getting rid of you. I've been hounding him for weeks."

Trowa didn't doubt the man wanted him gone. But, would the respected Khushrenada really ask a cadet to his office just to fire him? It seemed odd. Improbable. But why pass up this perfect opportunity? The only reason he'd joined OZ was to receive a chance like this; a chance to rise in the ranks and have some influence.

"Now get dressed and go see him, NOW!" Scott yelled. A few of Trowa's comrades wiggled restlessly in their sleep; probably having nightmares about the day to come.

"Yes sir!" Trowa answered.

Trowa kept a quick and even pace as he traveled through the barracks, up the stairs, through the training center, and down the winding halls towards the Colonel's office. An irritating, almost sick feeling was churning in his stomach and he wondered if it was nerves; or perhaps the fact that he was starving. Unlike most Commanders, Scott didn't make sure his squadron was well-fed or well taken care of. He worked them to the bone and expected them to operate like new the next day on less than five hours of sleep. Finally, Trowa stopped at the door to Colonel Khushrenada's office. It wasn't as fancy as he'd expected; just a plain metal door down a seemingly random hallway. He'd heard a lot, good and bad, about Treize Khushrenada. Some said he was cold, uncaring, and ruthless. But, others said he cared deeply for his soldiers and that his values meant more to him than his own life. Trowa had never met the man and had reasonablew doubts about his character. For one, Khushrenada was working for OZ; so he couldn't be _that_ good of a person. It wasn't possible for a truly good man to crush entire colonies of innocent people without a twinge of guilt. At least, Trowa didn't believe it was possible. But that didn't mean that Khushrenada wasn't reasonable.

Straightening up, he held up his fist to knock. This was it. The moment he needed to prove himself and set himself apart from all of his comrades. The moment he needed to get what he'd come here for. Trowa needed Treize Khushrenada to like him; he needed him to trust him; for the hope of his comrades and the colonies. For Quatre.

_Knock knock_.

Silence.

A moment later, the door unlocked from the inside with a loud "clank" and swung open. Trowa stood at attention as he caught sight of a man. Tall and well-built with mustard brown hair and a calm expression. Based on his uniform colors, he was definitely the Colonel. The name plate over his heart proved it. _"Khushrenada"._

"Well well well, who do we have here? Cadet Barton, hm?" His voice was calm and smooth.

"I was told to report to you immediately sir."

"Were you?" Treize raised his brow.

"Yes sir."

"Well then, you'd better come right in." Treize stepped out of the doorway and held out his hand in welcome, "I had asked that you report at _some point _this morning but apparently Commander Scott wanted you out of his hair as soon as possible."

Trowa marched inside and stood as straight as possible, feeling a bit awkward in the middle of the room. It was so plain. A bookcase filled with books in the corner caught his eye and a black and white poster hanging on the wall behind Treize's desk. It was massive, with large bold letters spelling out, "FOR THE GREATER GOOD."

"At ease, at ease." the Colonel said, "Please."

Trowa loosened up and looked at Treize as he made his way back to his desk. There were two plush, high-backed chairs in front of it with a man seated in the furthest one. The man was busy stirring the tea in his lap with a tiny spoon and looked to be around his mid-forties; with a nice head of dark brown hair and a straight posture.

"This is Colonel Richmond. He's visiting from our base on L3."

The Colonel leaned over and nodded to Trowa with a subtle smile then went straight back to his tea.

"Please, Barton. Take a seat." Treize motioned to the free chair. Trowa walked over to the desk and sat down at the edge of the chair. He didn't want to seem too confident, especially during his first moments with Treize, but he also didn't want to appear uncertain. Trowa didn't respect Treize, nor did he truly care what he thought of him; but he had to act like he did—he had to eat every word that came out of the man's mouth.

"I'm sure you're wondering why I wanted it see you." Treize took his seat and leaned back casually.

"My Commander believes that you're discharging me."

"What do you think?" Treize laced his white-gloved hands together.

"I don't think you'd give a person of my standing any of your time if you were planning on doing that. He's getting ahead of himself."

"You don't think very highly of your Commanding Officer, do you?" How Treize knew this, Trowa had no idea. Was his contempt for Scott really that obvious? It wasn't a good idea to voice his disapproval—at least not yet. So he stayed silent. Treize sat up straight in his chair and poured a cup of hot tea. As he slid it across the desk to Trowa, he smiled.

"You see, I like how Commander Scott works his cadets. He has the best numbers in the fleet. Yet he hates, for some odd reason, his best cadet. Why do you think that is?" Trowa didn't touch his tea. He wanted to appear hesitant and like he was intimidated, if only just a little. He didn't want to appear incompetent, though, so he looked Treize right in the eye to give his answer.

"Because he's afraid of me." Treize motioned for Trowa to drink, so Trowa reached over and took a sip of his tea. It was a sweet peach flavor. Not his favorite, but he continued to drink it anyway.

"You're exactly right. I can tell from the way he hates you; he wishes you dead. But, not just because he's afraid of you; it's because he knows that you're better than him. Inherently."

The man beside Trowa chuckled quietly to himself, "That isn't saying much."

Treize smiled slyly, "Oh yes, you're right Richmond. But I will say that the amount of terror I see in his eyes when he speaks about Cadet Barton says a lot. He isn't the most capable man nor is he the most intelligent; but, he is capable and he is intelligent—enough to carry out my orders. His terror is brought on by _how much better_ you are than him. Your numbers speak volumes. You surpass everyone in your squadron double time, at least, Barton" Trowa's mouth ran dry. He had been trying to stick out, but not _that_ much. Apparently his comrades were not as capable as he'd thought. Had he made a mistake? It seemed as if Treize had already made up his mind about Trowa. Did he really need to continue his act?

"This seems a surprise to you. Don't you check your numbers?"

"We haven't much leisure time, sir."

"Well that's good then. Scott is doing his job."

Trowa broke Treize's gaze and stared at the floor. Scott was far from doing his job. Numbers weren't everything.

"You don't agree?" Treize raised an eyebrow.

"No sir."

"Why is that? You're in the best squadron on the base."

Trowa was quiet again, afraid of saying too much.

"Speak your mind, boy." Richmond piped in. Treize was watching with an expectant look; his brow raised in amusement, like he was studying Trowa, like Trowa was his pet. A shiver went down Trowa's spine and he gulped; uncomfortable for the first time this morning. To distract himself, he focused on the moment at hand. Speaking poorly of one's superiors had to be carried out very sensitively. If he was going to speak the truth, he needed to put it gently, and respectfully. This could be a determining moment for him and his mission. What he was about to say was more important than almost anything he would ever do again. It would either make or break him.

"He doesn't inspire loyalty in his cadets."

"How do you mean?"

"Should I give an example?"

"Please."

"He forced Cadet Pierson to lick his boot last night. In front of our entire squadron because he didn't make his bed fast enough nor did he respond quickly enough when Commander Scott asked who's bed it was."

"You don't see that a proper punishment?" Richmond asked, "A Commander can punish his underlings in any way he sees fit, in my opinion; as long as it isn't torture."

"He can." Trowa responded, "But there are... more tactful forms of discipline in my opinion. He doesn't nurture loyalty because he doesn't treat them with respect. I don't think any of the men in my squadron would even consider dying for Commander Scott on the battlefield, because they know he would never do the same for them. He doesn't treat them like human beings. All he's doing is teaching them to behave like cowards. He's nurturing their fear. They're beginning to turn against each other, even."

Both men were silent now. Treize's gaze told Trowa nothing about what he could be thinking and as the moments passed by, his gaze turned into a scowl. Had he said too much? Was this the end of his OZ career? The humming of the ship's engines were all he could hear outside of his own heartbeat for an uncomfortably long amount of time. Finally, Treize broke the silence.

"You're absolutely right."

The relief was overwhelming. A part of Trowa wanted to jump for joy, or at least crack a smile and it took all he had to keep a straight face. Treize was a reasonable man after all.

"Thank you sir." Trowa allowed himself to say, with the flattest tone he could possibly muster.

"Do you think you could do a better job, Barton?"

Trowa paused to consider his answer even though he'd known immediately what he wanted to say. After pretending to mull it over for a moment he finally answered.

"Yes."


	3. Goodbye Scott, Hello Richmond

**Thank you guys for your patience on this chapter. Life got crazy but I finally had some time to write today! Please R and R! :)**

* * *

His first order as the new Commander of the Xeta squadron was to order the previous Commander Scott to report to Colonel Khushrenada's office—immediately. It was still early and the squadron—_my squadron—_he reminded himself even though it was strange getting used to, was probably just about to head to breakfast. The timing was perfect. As he followed the winding hallways back to his barracks, he couldn't help but allow a small smile to play across his lips. Scott was going to be furious.

As Trowa approached his barracks, he resumed the cold, emotionless demeanor he had worn for the past month and took a quiet moment to breathe. This was the beginning of the end. Now that he was in a position of power, it was only a matter of time before he could get his hands on one of OZ's new mobile suits. Muffled yelling came from the other side of the door. Likely, someone had left a wrinkle in their bed and the previous Commander Scott was taking it out on all of the cadets, humiliating the culprit in front of his team. Trowa pulled open the door to the barracks and was met with a spotless room, lined with cadets dressed to the T in the day's black uniforms. A single cadet stood at attention in the middle of the room, naked and soaking wet with water as Commander Scott stood only inches away, screaming and berating him.

"Do you think the enemy is going to be patient with you as you take your time to dress in the morning, Cadet? Do you think any of your lousy squadron will even bother with your lazy ass? HM?"

"No, sir! No!" The cadet replied. Scott suddenly reached down and took the cadet's man-parts in his hand—and squeezed.

"THAT IS CORRECT!"

Cadet Miller screamed in pain, doing his best to stay at attention; but, there wasn't much a man could do when his most precious parts were being attacked like that. Trowa felt his lip turn up in disgust. It was time to put an end to this. Only a couple of cadets had noticed him enter, so with all of his strength, he slammed the metal door he'd come through as hard as he could. A high pitched echo of metal against metal reverberated through the room and Scott turned, his eyes wide with anger.

"Barton! What do you think you're doing?"

It took some effort to keep from screaming at Scott, but not much. Composure had never been very difficult for Trowa. "You are to report to Colonel Khushrenada's office _immediately."_

_"Sir" _Scott corrected him, since Trowa had not used the honorific.

"No. _Scott_. You will report immediately." At that, Scott's eyes went wide. Finally, he let go of the cadet's crotch and turned to approach Trowa. Of course, he was going to push things. That was how he was. Luckily, Trowa was ready.

"I will not report until you address your Commanding Officer appropriately!" His face was turning red now.

"You are no longer my Commanding Officer, Scott. For all I know, you may not be a Commanding Officer at all. That is for the Colonel to decide." Trowa didn't allow himself the pleasure of smiling. Not in front of his new cadets. Scott's face turned even redder and he made a sound as if he were gasping and attempting to scream, all at the same time. His entire body was shaking with rage as he marched past Trowa and out the door, slamming it shut behind him. Trowa crossed his arms neatly behind his back and surveyed the room. Cadet Miller, the poor boy who Scott and been degrading, was still standing at attention, naked and soaked with water. Everyone else was standing at attention beside their bunks, their eyes staring straight ahead. As much as they all tried to hide the tension building inside of them, Trowa could sense it. They were afraid. Was Trowa going to treat them the same as Scott had treated them? Was he even capable of leading them? Lucky for them, Trowa knew exactly what he was doing.

"I am your new Commanding Officer, appointed by Colonel Treize Khushrenada himself. There will be some slight changes in the schedule for today, but most of it will remain the same. Please continue your morning routine. The change up will force us to arrive approximately five minutes late to breakfast, so you will only have twenty-five minutes to eat this morning." Which wasn't a big deal. The time Scott might have spent berating Miller would likely have forced them all to miss breakfast completely. Trowa pointed to a tall, dark-skinned cadet nearby; a cadet whom he trusted. "Parker, please aid Miller in whatever he needs to catch up to the rest of you this morning. No one will be leaving for breakfast until everyone else is ready. You all have five minutes. Hurry up!"

At that, everyone began rushing around the room to clean the water off of the floor, to finish straightening their bed sheets, and to attend to their appearance. Parker followed Miller around the room and aided him in making his bed, dressing, and whatever else he needed. Miller was only eighteen years old, the youngest of the cadets besides Trowa. Although Trowa had of course lied about his age, stating that he was 18 so that he might be admitted in the first place. Many of the cadets were very young, but some were in their early and mid-twenties as well. A part of him wondered what they thought of having such a young Commander now. Maybe they were open to the idea? Besides, almost anyone would be a relief from Scott, in Trowa's opinion.

The morning went by quickly. After breakfast, everyone reported to the arena for some hand-to-hand combat fighting. The squadron was broken up into groups and rotated to new partners every ten minutes. At the end of the rotations, Trowa demonstrated a new hold for the squadron to learn, using Miller as a partner.

"After placing them in this hold, they have two choices" Trowa said as he held Miller's head in a half-nelson, being careful not to cut off his airway. "But neither choice is without consequence. Anyone care to suggest one of his choices?"

Parker raised his hand and Trowa nodded for him to speak. "Drop his weight?"

"That is an option, but that leaves him on the floor, exposed. None of you have been trained well in floor combat yet, which we will fix soon enough, but there are better options." Trowa went on to explain the best options for escape and directed the entire squadron throughout practice. Harsh, tough, and relentless; those were his training techniques. But he was kind and he didn't berate them. By the end of the day, he knew he already had their loyalty. This was going to be easy.

"Commander Barton." Miller approached Trowa during dinner and took the open seat beside him. Many of the commanders sat at a separate table during dinner, socializing with one another. It would be a good idea, Trowa knew, to sit with the other commanders at some point so that he could get to know them. But, today he needed to establish himself with his squadron, so he ate with them.

"Miller." Trowa nodded and took a bite of steak. Miller positioned himself and took a bite of his mashed potatoes. After a few moments of glancing at Trowa and appearing hesitant, he finally spoke.

"Sir, can I ask you a... personal question?" There was a slight instability in his voice; like he was nervous.

"What?"

"Well, sir. I'm just curious if you're older than me."

"Why would you be curious about that Miller." Trowa turned to look at him, his eyes piercing, "Does my age have anything to do with my ability to command you?"

"No sir. Of course not." He frowned and stared down at his tray of food. At that, Parker, who had been listening, leaned in and said,

"It just adds to the hilarity, is all. Sir." Parker was much more comfortable with Trowa, as they had formed a sort of "friendship" over the past month. Trowa was tempted to crack a smile, but wouldn't allow himself to appear entertained.

"Hilarity?"

"That someone so young took over the position of someone as "seasoned" as Scott." Parker shrugged and chuckled, his large round shoulders moving up and down as he did.

"Of course." Trowa nodded, intentionally not answering the question.

"Sooo..." Parker began, leaning across the table, his eyes wide an expectant. A part of Trowa was glad Parker seemed just as comfortable with him. Because he was still respectful but didn't seem to be walking on egg-shells around like the rest of the squadron was.

"I was born in December. I happen to remember you were born in March, Miller. So you're older."

Miller smiled. Parker smirked and gave a "woop" of approval.

"The youngest showed up the oldest! That's awesome!" Trowa shrugged, taking another bite of his chicken and washing it down with a massive gulp of water. After dinner, he accompanied the squadron back to their barracks. None of his superiors had attempted to contact him about where he might spend the evening. Scott had been given a private room across the hallway from Xeta Squadron's barracks, but Trowa wasn't certain if Scott had been cleared out or not. A man was leaning against the wall beside the door to the barracks, and as the cadets approached, they rose to attention and saluted the man, continuing on inside the room as he waved them by. Trowa approached him, recognizing him from this morning.

"Commander Barton." Richmond said, uncrossing his arms and pushing himself away from the wall.

"Colonel Richmond." Trowa saluted and stood at attention.

"At ease." His voice was smooth and Trowa allowed his posture to relax. "Colonel Treize asked that I help you get settled into your new room. Also, there are some other details I'll need to speak with you about."

"Of course." Trowa nodded and followed Richmond into the room across the hall. His squadron knew how to put themselves to bed. He would check on them later this evening and make certain all was in order. Scott's room was empty of personal belongings, now only housing a bed, a desk, and some visiting chairs with a coffee table between them. There was still a mirror on the wall above the desk, but the rest of the walls were a barren gray. Apparently, they hadn't wasted any time in clearing Scott out.

"You guys certainly moved quickly." Trowa said. Richmond smirked and took a seat in one of the high-backed, french-styled suede chairs on the other side of the room. Trowa seated himself at the other one, an intricate round coffee table between them.

"Treize has demoted Commander Scott. He is still a part of our army, of course, as his loyalties are greatly appreciated."

"Of course."

"You don't have to worry about running into him. We made arrangement to send him to another station, since he seems to be holding a grudge against you now."

"Understandable." Trowa nodded.

"Anyway, he stated some things about you that cannot be validated, as of yet, and that Treize and myself highly doubt. But that we must still look into."

"What kind of things?" Trowa did his best to continue appearing light and unconcerned. But he was worried—did Scott know something about his motives here?

"Well, first of all, he said that you were a spy for the Colonies." Trowa's mouth ran dry. _Fuck_. How would Scott have known that? Surely, he was just making it up in his anger. Or, was there something suspicious about Trowa's arrival that Scott had picked up on? Had he slipped up somehow? Trowa smirked in an attempt to appear unaffected and hoped his act continued to convince.

"That's quite an accusation." He said and raised his eyebrow.

"We know. We also understand that he was furious and was doing anything in his power to discredit you. But, he did bring up some interesting points about your admission and records that no one seemed to notice upon your arrival. I have yet to look into any of this on my own and I'm sure that whatever he has claimed about you is not based in fact in the slightest. So, even though he has been demoted and you will continue to operate as the Commander, we are going to look into this. Please do not take this as anything more than it actually is. We value you as a Commander and we also value your word."

"Thank you." Trowa felt his stomach sinking, even though his mind told him he didn't need to worry. Of course, he had forged all of his documents in order to be admitted. His forgeries were solid and there would be no reason for them to look further than his documents. But, if for whatever reason they chose to visit the city that he claimed to be from, they would find nothing. It had been destroyed by colony terrorists over a year ago. The survivors were living all over the world now—OZ representatives wouldn't have anyone to question. His story was as close to reality as he could muster, the only true fakes being his citizen number and several other non-traceable facts. But, a part of him was still reeling. Could he have missed anything?

"What sort of 'interesting points' are you referring to?" Trowa dug, in an attempt to see what Scott might have found.

"Nothing that can be substantiated as of yet. Really, Barton, don't worry about it. There is one more order of business I must discuss with you." Trowa leaned back in his chair and nodded, resting his arms on the armrests of his chair. "Treize and I have both agreed that because you are so new to OZ, because there are some issues with your enrollment, and because you are a new Commander, you might need a little help. Since I am reporting here for the purposes of checks-and-balances anyway, I volunteered to aid Colonel Treize in helping you."

"Helping me?" Trowa raised his eyebrow, attempting to give the most disapproving glare possible.

"I know, I know. You probably don't need any help. We don't have to call it that, if you don't want to. Treize would like to call it an audit."

"You will be auditing me?"

"Precisely. Until I feel comfortable with your performance and skill, I will be spending chunks of the day overseeing your work. Of course, I'll stay out of it unless I have a suggestion, and at the end of the day I will debrief you about your experiences and offer up any advice I might have."

"How long will this go on?"

"Seeing as how I don't expect to stay longer than a week anyway, I doubt it will last longer than that. Most likely even shorter, if your performance is as exemplary as I assume it will be."

"A _week_?" Trowa could hardly contain his tone of disapproval. An entire week under the watchful eye of a superior, all the while they would be looking into his personal background-their findings most likely kept from him until they found something incriminating. Would he be able to pull it off? Would they become even more suspicious after this week?

"I wouldn't approve either, so I completely understand your feelings Commander." Richmond leaned forward in his chair and touched Trowa's knee in what appeared to be an attempt at seeming friendly. It was all he had in him to keep from batting the man's hand away. "But please, Barton, for Treize and my peace of mind, will you consent to these stipulations?"

Trowa didn't want to consent. He wanted Richmond to stay out of his hair and out of his life. But, he didn't have a choice. In order to appear cooperative and like he had nothing to hide—in order to prove himself—he had to agree to this ridiculous proposal.

"Of course I consent"

"Great! I will speak with Colonel Treize tonight and will be outside your barracks first thing tomorrow morning." Richmond stood up and Trowa stood up to walk him out. Instead of turning to leave, though, Richmond smiled and reached up to lightly grasp Trowa's chin, stroking his cheek with his thick finger. "I look forward to spending some more time with you, Commander." At that he turned and walked out of the room. Things just became much more complicated.


	4. Oh So Complicated

**Sorry about the formatting issues guys! I think I've managed to fix it now. The next chapter will be up in just a few minutes. :)**

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As soon as Colonel Richmond left, Trowa began to pace back and forth through his new bedroom. How had things suddenly gone so wrong? And more importantly, what was he going to do in spite of it all?

_Don't freak out, everything is going to be fine, _he told himself. They wouldn't find anything while investigating him. For months, he'd planned his infiltration and had gone over his files repeatedly. He had consulted the experts on the black market, spoken with others who had forged documents to gain government access. There was absolutely nothing wrong with his paperwork and thus nothing he needed to worry about. At least, nothing to do with his enrollment. Richmond was another story. _He will be easy to handle, _he told himself, _I'll just pretend I don't notice him. he'll get the idea._ A heavy sigh escaped his lips and he sat down on his new bed. It wasn't the nicest bed he'd ever slept in, but certainly a lot nicer than the cots he and his cadets had been issued. It had springs, sheets, a fluffy blanket, and a nice white comforter. Laying back on his back, he concluded that the comforter was actually _very_ nice. The view of the ceiling wasn't, though, so he closed his eye to relax for a moment or two.

Suddenly, he awoke, still lying flat on his back. Apparently he'd dozed off. With a soft moan, he sat up and checked his OZ issued pocket watch, which showed the time to be 12 o' two AM. He hadn't dozed long. It was a bit late, but not too late to check up on his cadets. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he straightened out his uniform and opened the door to head out into the hallway. As he stepped towards Xeta Squadron's barracks, he noticed a figure moving away, down the hall. So he turned to find someone dressed only in his boxers and a white t-shirt, barefoot and hugging himself as he hurried through the hallway. It was Miller. As quiet as he could, Trowa followed him, out into the Great Hall, and into one of the cadet lounge rooms. There, Miller took a seat in an over-sized couch at the far end of the room. Trowa followed him inside, now putting a bit more weight to his steps so the young cadet would hear him approaching. Sitting forward on the couch and still hugging his arms against his chest, Miller hung his head. The room was dark; too dark to see the expression on his face, but Trowa could feel the weight in the room; something wasn't right.

"Cadet." Trowa breathed, attempting to keep some authority in his tone, but also a touch of tenderness. It was his job to build his cadets up to the best that they could be, which included aiding them at their lowest. Miller seemed to just now notice him and hurried to stand at attention, but Trowa reached out and pressed him by his shoulder back onto the couch .

"At ease, Miller. At ease." He said. Miller relaxed and stayed seated. "Now, why are you leaving your barracks in the middle of the night? You know it's past curfew, right?"

"Yes sir." Miller answered, his voice shaking with emotion.

"What's up?" Trowa took a seat on the couch beside him, leaning forward. His eyes were beginning to adjust to the dark, so now he could at least make out the strained look on his cadet's face.

"I..." Miller began, "I..." and cleared his throat, shaking his head as he stared at the ground.

"It's fine. Are you having trouble sleeping?" Trowa prompted.

"Yeah-I just-needed to leave that room. Get some air."

"Of course. But remember, if you're caught out here past curfew by another ranking officer, you could get into some huge trouble. I don't want any of my cadets getting into trouble and having their training interrupted."

"I-I can't handle it, sir-" Miller blurted, cutting himself off as if he'd had no control over his own words.

"Handle what, Cadet?"

"The schedule. The regimen. I'm not cut out for this."

At that, Trowa was silent. From the beginning of his recruitment with OZ, he'd known Miller. The boy was young and soft. There was a gentle side to him that had not yet been stomped out by the constant, daily pounding of training. He'd probably grown up somewhat spoiled, like Quatre. In fact, now that Trowa thought about it, there was a lot about Miller that reminded him of Quatre. Gentle, kind-spirited, vulnerable. If Quatre could do what he'd done, with the kind of upbringing he'd had, certainly Miller could as well.

"I know someone a lot like you." Trowa said. Miller turned to look at him, his eyes now glistening from a faint glow emitting out of the Great Hall. "He's quiet, compassionate, and gentle. I'm certain that it was difficult for him when he joined the military. Fighting-no, _war_ is not in his nature. But, he got through it and managed to keep those qualities. His skill is greater than almost everyone I know. In battle, he's amazing. If he could do this, I know that you can."

"I'm not so sure, sir." Miller choked.

"Don't think about what you can and can't do cadet. Stop thinking. That's how you get through the tough times. You're tired. Your mind is exhausted. But you can do this. Stop thinking about tomorrow. Now is all that matters."

At that, Miller nodded, a strained silence passing between them. Trowa stood up and rested a hand on the boy's shoulders. "You are just as, if not more capable of succeeding in our unit. I've seen your scores. You're in the top ten percent of the squadron when it comes battle formation, strategy, and tactics. Maybe your hand-to-hand could use some work-but we need all kinds of people to make up an army. Focus on your strengths, work on your weaknesses, and you'll be fine."

"Yes sir." Miller said softly. "Thank you."

Trowa motioned for Miller to follow him as he left the lounge room and led him back to his barracks. After the cadet returned to his cot and settled down, Trowa went over to the wall and adjusted the morning alarm to wake his squadron an hour later than usual. The extra sleep would be necessary for what he planned to put them through.

The following morning, Trowa awoke an hour before his cadets were scheduled to wake, to give himself some time to prepare for the day. A long shower, some pacing, planning, and meditation was necessary to prepare for Richmond breathing over his shoulder all day. Training would be difficult for his cadets today-but he needed to start things off strong in order to prove himself. Richmond wasn't the only one he needed to impress. Treize Khushrenada's was watching, too.

After adjusting his new ribbons and badges, Trowa stepped out into the hall to find Richmond leaning against the wall near Xeta Squadron's barracks door, poking away at his paper-thin tablet. Glancing up, he smiled and approached Trowa.

"Good morning Commander. How did you sleep in your new room?"

"Wonderfully, Colonel." Trowa saluted and stood at attention. Richmond waved him down.

"At ease, soldier. Now, tell me. Why is it that your cadets are still sleeping? Every other squadron is up by five o' clock."

"The previous Commander deprived them of sleep to an unheathy and un-optimal extent. I will be giving them an extra hour for the rest of the week so that they can catch up, and will switch their sleep schedule to match the schedule of the rest of the squadrons after that."

"You mean, he'd been keeping you all up an hour longer than the rest of the squadrons?" Richmond raised an eyebrow.

"Yes sir. I believe my cadets have been held back by their previous Commander. By the end of the week, I expect significantly better scores, overall."

"That's quite a claim. Are you sure the extra hour of training isn't what has contributed to their excellence?"

"I'm certain, sir. I've been working with each of these cadets for over a month now. I see their potential. I know what they can do."

"Well then, this should be an exciting week!" Richmond smiled. Trowa nodded just as the alarm began to sound in the barracks so he entered the room, Richmond following him from behind. Just as the previous Commander Scott did before him, Trowa stood in the doorway with his arms resting behind his back and watched as his cadets dressed and made their beds. After they were prepared for the day, they lined up along the ends of their beds and stood at attention.

"I'm sure you're all wondering why it's so late." Trowa began, speaking loudly, "I set your alarm to give you an extra hour of sleep for the day. But, don't think that means things will be easy-you're going to need that extra hour. After breakfast, which will be spent alone since everyone else has already begun training, we will be working on battle simulations in the Holo Room for the day." Trowa noticed a few of the cadets gulp, their faces taunt with stress. No one dared say of word, but all of them were likely feeling the same way. Most squadrons only spent a few hours in the Holo Room at the end of the week. No one ever spent the entire day there. It was too taxing.

"Merciless." Richmond whispered under his breath, amusement clear in his voice. Trowa ignored him and went on.

"Now, everyone head over to breakfast. You have twenty minutes." The squadron gathered into formation and jogged out of their barracks, down the hall, through the Great Hall, and into the cafeteria. Trowa ushered his cadets through the line before him, even though most Commanders went first in line. After everyone had gathered their food and sat down to eat, Trowa and Richmond took a tray and sat at a table near the doorway.

"So tell me, Commander Barton, how have you gotten so good at what you do?"

"What do you mean, sir?" Trowa asked as he stuffed a bite of scrambled egg in his mouth.

"You obviously have had some combat training before joining OZ."

Trowa nodded, the story he'd prepared already engraved into his mind. So much of it was true, he didn't have to act out the emotion he felt for it. "Yes. After my village was destroyed by Colonist Terrorists, I met a retired soldier who was traveling through. There was nothing left for me there, so I went with him. He trained me in combat and talked up joining with OZ. After that, I joined a hand-to-hand combat school in Germany to prepare until I was old enough to enlist."

"From France to Germany. Hmmm." Richmond poked at his roll with his fork, "So, you want revenge for what happened to your village? Is that why you joined OZ?"

Trowa chewed his last massive bite of scrambled egg and washed it down with some black coffee. "You make me sound so petty."

"Of course that's not exactly what I mean." Richmond shrugged, "I mean, you want to rid the world of the scum that could have done such a thing to your home?"

Trowa pushed his empty tray away and propped his elbows up on the table, lacing his hands together as he spoke, "My parents and sister died the day those terrorist came through. When everything you've ever cared for-ever hoped for-has been stripped away, you haven't much left in life that you can give yourself to. I couldn't have devoted myself to anything else; I joined OZ because there was nothing left of me."

"A perfect fighting machine." Richmond mumbled more to himself than to Trowa, "That's quite a story."

Trowa shrugged, "Melodramatic."

"Absolutely not! Your story is an inspiration." Richmond reached over beneath the table to place his hand on Trowa's leg . This time, Trowa was ready and smacked it away, his eyes burning in opposition. At first, Richmond seemed surprised at Trowa's bold move, but slowly, his eyes hardened. Leaning forward, he smirked. "A bit squeamish, are we?" Trowa frowned, not certain how to respond. It wouldn't be appropriate, at least not now, to tell Richmond off. But, he didn't want to come across permissive of the man's advances either. So, instead of responding, he stood up, picked up his and Richmond's empty trays, and walked across the room to place them back on the loop so that they could be cleaned. The squadron had five more minutes to eat. Trowa couldn't leave yet; so he walked back across the room, past Richmond, and stood by the door. Richmond followed him.

"Commander Barton." He said, trapping Trowa in the corner by the door.

"Colonel Richmond." Trowa acknowledged him, his jaw tightening involuntarily.

"Am I sensing insubordination?"

Trowa grit his teeth. "Sir?" He responded, as if he had no idea what Richmond was talking about.

"I am your commanding officer. You will treat me with respect. When I ask you a question, you answer it. Do you understand, Commander?"

"Yes, sir." Trowa nodded, his stomach clenching with anxiety. This wasn't good.

"Now, tell me. Are you squeamish?"

"I don't know what you mean by that, sir." Trowa responded, checking the clock. Only two more minutes until breakfast was over.

"I mean, are you a nervous-type person? Are you afraid of other men?"

"I'm not _afraid, _sir." Trowa clenched his fists, "I'm just not interested in what you seem to be proposing."

Richmond smiled, almost gently, and stepped forward so that his face was only a few inches from Trowa's. "Well, your interests are none of my concern, Commander. All that matters is that I approve of how you conduct the training of your squadron, that I appreciate how you go about your business, and also, that I am _pleased_ with you. If I'm not happy with you, your good Colonel Treize will be hearing about it. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal." Trowa responded through gritted teeth. This wasn't good. He didn't want to blow his cover, but if Richmond pushed him... What would that drive him to do?_I can't abandon the mission, but I... I can't concede to Richmond either._ He was at a crossroads and decided to spend some time thinking it over later. Breakfast was over and his cadets were already up and placing their trays on the loop. Now was not the time to strategize. "Now, sir. With your permission, can I take command of my squadron? Breakfast is over."

Richmond smiled, an excited look in his eyes. He'd won this battle. "Absolutely. Don't let me get in the way of your work."

Trowa nodded, "Thank you, sir." And turned to face his squadron as they stepped into formation. "Alright, troops. Breakfast time is up. Now head to the Holo Room. You have ten minutes!"


	5. Is It Worth It?

The Holo Room was a conglomerate of computer systems, massive screens mounted on the walls, wires strung in thick bundles throughout the room, and chairs. The chairs reminded Trowa of the kind the dentists used, but they were larger and made of black, textured metal. After breaking his squadron into two groups based on their scores, he assigned each cadet a position within the group based on what he perceived as their best strengths.

"Miller, I'm going to put you down as the lead strategy and tactical advisor. You will work directly with Commanding Officer Parker." Miller nodded, an unsure expression in his eyes. Parker's face lit up.

"Commanding Officer?" Parker asked.

"Yes. Now go and strategize with your team." Trowa ordered. "Johnson." He spoke to one of the older cadets on the other team; who was likely in his early twenties, "You will be the Commanding Officer of Xeta One."

"Great." Johnson smiled, seeming genuinely pleased. His scores were some of the best; in some areas nearly matching Trowa's level of skill. After assigning positions in every group, Trowa gave both groups an objective and a command to stop the other team from obtaining their assigned objective as well as an hour to strategize. He passed between groups, listening in on each group's strategies but staying quiet about his own ideas; he wanted to advise his squadron based on their results and at the end of the battle sequence and not before. Richmond seated himself in the corner of the room to get some work done on his tablet. Trowa hoped he'd stay there.

After the hour was up, each cadet found a metal chair and began hooking themselves up to the system. Several nodes were attached to each cadet's forehead and temple to detect and interpret brainwaves. The nodes were up-linked to the chair, which was hooked up to the simulator at the center of the room. Once everyone was under and loading, Trowa made his safety rounds and system checks again. Everything was working properly and every cadet now, according to the system, had been uploaded successfully.

"Xeta Squadron One, Xeta One, report in." Trowa said into his headset.

"Commanding Officer Johnson reporting in." Came Johnson's smooth, relaxed voice. Each cadet on Xeta One stated their name and rank in order. Trowa listened and checked them off on his log as they spoke. "Perfect." he said, pulling visual so that he could watch the battle from several angles on the screens mounted around the room. Both teams were in formation, standing in their own bunkers and surrounded by mobile suits.

"Xeta Squadron Two, Xeta Two. Report in." Trowa ordered.

"Commanding Officer Parker here, ready to go." Parker sounded excited. He was probably the only cadet in all of Xeta squadron who enjoyed running battle sequences in the Holo Room. After Parker, there was silence. The next in rank was Miller, and he wasn't saying a word. Trowa pulled up his vitals, which appeared normal, and spoke into his headset.

"Tactical Commander Miller, report in." he said. Up on the screen, he noticed the members of Xeta Two begin to glance around. Miller was nowhere to be seen.

"Miller. Report in." Trowa said again, running through the checks and fail-safes again. Nothing seemed to be wrong. After combing through several menus, he found the problem. Miller hadn't uploaded to 100%; even though the system had registered it that way. It was stuck at 99%.

"We're going to have to re-upload Miller. Standby." Trowa said, throwing off his headset and walking over to where Miller lay, drenched in sweat. The longer he stayed like this, the more dangerous it was. Simulations weren't all that safe to begin with; and resting in Limbo was even more dangerous to the mind. Trowa shut off his chair and waited. Miller gasped and choked, a tremor running through his body. Suddenly, he sat bolt upright, forcing the nodes to pop off his skin and his eyes wide as he gasped for breath.

"Miller, Miller. Relax. We have to re-upload you."

"Commander, no! I can't do it! I can't!" Miller's eyes were brimming with tears and his entire body was shaking.

"You are the assigned Tactical Commander. If you don't re-upload, your team will be defeated. Do you understand? Now re-attach your nodes and do it right this time!" Trowa wasn't angry, but his own relaxed nature wouldn't cut it for Richmond. It was important that he seemed harsh and impatient. Miller held his head and shook it, his shoulders trembling as he fought to hold back his tears. _Harsh and impatient isn't going to work here, though, _he thought to himself, _screw Richmond._ Trowa leaned over and took a firm hold on Miller's shoulder, pushing him back so that he'd look him in the eyes. "Relax Miller. Breath. Stop thinking about the battle. Stop thinking about the upload. You can do this." He kept his voice quiet and even. Hopefully Richmond couldn't hear him anyway.

"I don't think I can, sir!"

Kneeling down, Trowa kept his hand on Miller's shoulder and placed the other one on the boy's knee. "Paul." Trowa said, in almost a whisper, using the boy's first name in an attempt to make a connection."I remember that we joined up here on the exact same day. Do you remember that?"

"Y-yes."

"You've held top-ranking scores that entire time. You've been excellent from the beginning. But that doesn't matter. You don't need to keep your scores that high. You just need to work hard. Don't worry about the scores. Don't worry about performance. Let it go. Just do your best but don't think about what will happen if you don't, OK?"

Miller nodded, sighing, still shaking.

"I know you can do this. It's tough, it's really really tough. But you can do it. Your team needs you."

Miller finally glanced up, making eye contact with Trowa, "I'll try. I don't think I can do it. But I'll try."

"That's all I need." Trowa smiled and pat him on the back. It was the first day and he'd already gained one-hundred times more loyalty from his squadron than Scott ever had. Miller began to reattach the nodes to his head, taking extra care this time around. Trowa checked each node to make sure it was secure and had Miller lie back down on the chair. Gently, Trowa rested his palm on Miller's forehead and looked him in the eye.

"Thank you. Now close your eyes and recite our Honor Code, please."

Miller released a shaky breath and adjusted his position in the chair. "It is my honor and my duty to serve OZ in everything I do. For the greater good, I will die for my teammates, my ranking officers, and all who OZ serves. So help me God." Trowa turned the chair back on and Miller grew quiet, his brain uploading into the system. As he walked back over to his station at the simulator, he glanced at Richmond who was still working on his tablet. Maybe-hopefully-he hadn't been paying attention. Most Commanders were not gentle or soft spoken with their cadets. It wasn't considered "powerful." After pulling on his headset, Trowa checked through the menus in Millers profile and made sure he uploaded to 100%. After which, he switched back to the main screen and leaned back in his chair, clipboard ready.

"Alright, again. Xeta Squadron Two, Xeta Two, report in."

"Commanding Officer Parker, still here sir." Parker gave a thumbs up into the air. From their end, none of the squadron could tell what angle or where Trowa was watching from. But they knew he was watching.

"Tactical Commander Miller here." Miller said, his voice unsteady.

"How are you doing Miller?" Trowa asked, glancing at his still frame across the room laying in the chair beside Parker's. His forehead was still slick with sweat-as were many of the other cadets. But everyone's vitals were normal. Everything was going smoothly.

"I'm fine. Sir." Miller said.

"Great. Now, I will be monitoring communications between both of your groups and monitoring all vitals during the simulation. If any of you black out, report it immediately, understood?"

At that, the entire Xeta squadron recited in unison, "Sir, yes sir!"

"Now, go and achieve your objectives." At that, the two Commanding Officers, Johnson and Parker, began shouting orders at their half-sized squadrons. For the next three hours, both squadrons readied for battle, boarded their mobile suits, and were deployed into space. Trowa spent the time watching and re-watching the feed of each soldier, making notes about each of their personal strategies, decisions, and mistakes. The first to be killed in the simulation was a young cadet on Xeta One named Xing. He'd blown his cover behind a pile of space trash and Miller had dispensed of him quickly. Gasping and screaming as he woke, Xing leaned over and threw up in the bucket placed beside his chair. Every chair had a bucket beside it.

"Review your log, Xing." Trowa ordered. Xing wiped his mouth with a trembling hand and leaned back in his chair, running the other hand through his sweat-soaked hair. After a few minutes of breathing and resting to recover, he pulled a swivel-screen around in front of himself to review the notes Trowa had taken, re-watch his feed, and then observe the rest of the battle.

During a stalemate in the battle, as both squadrons took refuge behind opposing asteroid clusters, Trowa was finally allowed a mental break. There wasn't much to take notes on right now. Keeping his eyes on the screen, he allowed his mind to wander for a moment. These battles brought him back, and reminded him so much of Quatre. So much of their time together had been spent in battle, or steak-outs in space. The blonde's beautiful blue eyes, soft hair, and pleasant smile were all he could see for a moment. How was Quatre doing right now? Was he still on L4 working with his father, or had he moved on to something else? Was he even still alive?

Trowa shook his head, and mentally scolded himself. _Of course he's still alive. Don't let yourself think something so horrendous. _But, Trowa knew the reality his own situation as well as the situation of all the other pilots; death was immanent. That was the nature of war. No one should go into it with the expectation to survive. Still, the thought of Quatre no longer existing-it was unbearable. He wouldn't allow himself to go there. Quatre was alive and well, he had to be, and Trowa had to get through this. If only just to see the blonde one more time.

"Parker, I have a plan." Miller said in a whisper, then went on to explain what he and his team ought to do next. "There will be casualties, but this is the only way most of us can get out of here." He said and Trowa pulled up Miller's file to make some notes. This was the only way he'd seen out of their situation as well and he'd been waiting for Miller to figure it out.

"Good boy." Trowa whispered to himself, pleased at Miller's ability to think so clearly during battle. It was as if he were another person in those tense, pressure-filled moments. The anxiety before and after battle was what kept him up at night. Finally, Xeta Two implemented Miller's plan and wiped out Xeta One in less that ten minutes, with only two casualties; Miller being one of them. Not every cadet who awoke from death was sick enough to puke, but most of them were and took full advantage of their buckets. Miller managed to hold it down, shaking hard as he reviewed Trowa's notes and then the battle recap. The ones who had survived the battle awoke, drenched in sweat but steady, for the most part. Parker looked as if he'd just gone for a stroll in the park, a massive smile spread across his face.

"Woohoo! Nice work Xeta Two!" He pumped his fist into the air and high-fived Miller beside him. "Great tactics, Miller. That was amazing!"

"Thank you." Miller said, covering his mouth, still trying to keep from using his bucket. Johnson of Xeta One brushed his blonde hair back over his head and sighed, clearly more upset about the loss than the trauma of death.

"Nice work, Xeta Two." Trowa said. "Your survival ratio would easily be labeled a successful mission by OZ standards."

"Nice!" Parker said, smacking Miller's leg in excitement.

"You all have half and hour to review my report on your performance. After which, you will have ten minutes to wash up and head down to lunch. Immediately following lunch, report back here for another simulation. I suggest you all go easy on the food. You might not be able to keep it down this time." The room was silent, the terror of running through another simulation clear on each of their faces. Parker was the only one attempting to seem _less_ excited.

Richmond left to attend to other business during lunch, and did not return until nearly the end of the second simulation. Trowa had been grateful for the break and was disappointed to see the Colonel stride through the pressure doors.

"Everything run smoothly in my absence?" Richmond asked, a small smile on his lips.

"Yes, sir." Trowa responded, barely able to pull his eyes from the screen as he commented on every move his squadron made. Richmond placed his hand on the desk beside Trowa, leaning over him from behind as he watched the screens.

"That's great. I spoke with Colonel Treize. He is very please with how you are handling your squadron on your first day. Keep it up."

"Thank you, Colonel Richmond." Trowa responded, the words rolling off his tongue so easily, despite his disgust with the man, "We didn't have any upload issues this time around."

"Wonderful." Richmond responded, "I'm certain they'll have a much more difficult time coming out of it though, don't you think?"

"I'm sure they will. I know how they feel. It isn't the most pleasant thing to do."

"Spoken like a true soldier." Richmond pat his back, afterwards resting his hand on Trowa's shoulder. Trowa did his best to ignore it. "When did you ever have time to run _two _simulations, Barton?"

"Every weekend, right after the first simulation run." Trowa shrugged in an attempt to get Richmond's hand off his shoulder, but the man didn't take the hint. "Scott allowed Parker and I to run a second instead of taking free time. For the first month, at least. We began scoring better than him, though, so he started making up reasons as to why we couldn't anymore."

"My goodness, what a coward." Richmond shook his head and walked across the room to sit back down in the corner. Trowa sighed inwardly, glad to have his own personal space back.

"I'm already beginning to feel relieved that Scott isn't in command anymore." Richmond said, "I had no idea how pathetic he was." he pulled out his tablet and began to work again. Trowa continued with his notes, stopping only to attend to cadets who were having a more difficult time coming out of the simulation. When young Xing awoke, he didn't quite have the energy to scream, nor the strength to lean over and puke into the bucket. Before Trowa could get across the room to help him, he'd already soiled himself, all down the front of his uniform. There were tears in his eyes and tremors ran through his body as he attempted to sit up.

"Woah woah, cadet." Trowa pulled the boy into a sitting position, helping him to lean over the edge of his chair and spit into the bucket. A pang of guilt shot through his chest as the boy fought to keep steady, but he pressed it down. _This kind of training is necessary_, he reminded himself, _if they hope to survive a real battle._

"Go get yourself cleaned up." Trowa said, motioning to the locker room doors on the other side of the room. "Then come back here and review the battle." Xing nodded, pulling his feet around to dangle off of the chair. This time, Xing hadn't been the first to die so Trowa called another of his cadets over to accompany him into the locker room. "Keep an eye on him and bring him back here after he's cleaned up." Trowa returned to his station, the stress beginning to build. The end of the battle was nearing and the outcome seemed much more grim. Soldiers were now being killed off, right and left, on both teams. Tactics and strategy flew out the window when both teams decided to attack at the same time, neither being ready for the other's advancement. It was a blood bath. Miller attempted to call for a retreat, but the asteroids surrounding them had been pulverized, offering no cover. Finally, the battle ended. Parker, the lone survivor. He awoke, this time seeming dazed and sick. Watching your teammates die around you was difficult; simulation or not.

"Good work everyone." Trowa stood, removing his headset. "I'll tell you now that the situation that all of you found yourselves in is not uncommon when it comes to space-based battle." A few of the cadets were still attempting to recover from the simulation and were probably not able to listen to him right now, so Trowa kept his orders brief. "All of you, make use of the locker rooms behind you to clean up. I've already ordered fresh uniforms to be placed in your lockers. Take your time in the shower and then head down for dinner at 1800 hours. I'm sure a lot of you won't be hungry, but you need to try and eat. After dinner, we will report to the Conference Room 48 on 2B. There, we can go over your notes and talk tactics."

"Yes sir." Many of the cadets responded. Some were too dazed or too sick to speak though and Trowa wasn't even sure if they'd heard him.

"Keep an eye on each other. Don't leave anyone alone for the rest of the evening. Understand?" There had been incidents in the past of cadets passing out and hitting their heads after running simulations. Only two deaths had been associated with the simulations in the past three years though, one by loss of consciousness and drowning; the other, suicide. Trowa didn't want numbers like that attached to his squadron.

During dinner, Trowa sat with Richmond and discussed the day. Somehow, he managed to keep the conversation centered entirely on battle. Richmond had an impressive amount of knowledge and understanding when it came to strategy and tactics; proving to Trowa that he'd certainly earned his rank as Colonel, no question about it. After dinner, the squadron met in the Conference Room on the west side of the second level and spent the duration of the evening pouring over the day's battles, discussing what could have been done differently and watching re-caps. Everyone made an effort to stay engaged, even cadet Xing, who still looked pale and dazed. Overall, Trowa viewed the day as a success. Richmond agreed and they sent the squadron to their barracks half an hour early to rest up for the evening.

"What are your plans for tomorrow?" Richmond ask as he walked beside Trowa, following the squadron back to their barracks.

"We will work on our hand-to-hand in the morning, then run a simulation after lunch."

"Another simulation? My god Commander, you're even more ruthless that Scott."

Trowa shrugged, "I know they can handle it. And they need to be able to handle it if they hope to survive a real battle. Aren't they supposed to be ready for deployment next month?"

"Yes, but they need to survive until deployment, first." Richmond smirked.

"They will. I told you, their numbers will be up significantly by the end of the week. I can't go easy on them."

"I wouldn't dream of it." Richmond smiled, folding his tablet and placing it in his jacket pocket. "Just like I won't go easy on you. But, you're making it difficult; you do your job right and you're oh so likeable."

Trowa didn't know what to say to that, so he just stayed quiet. After the squadron settled into their barracks, he closed the door and turned to Richmond, who was already letting himself into his new room across the hall. Was the Colonel planning on discussing the day further, socializing, or something else? At that last thought, Trowa gulped and followed the man inside. Richmond waited by the door and motioned for Trowa to sit on the other side of the room. The small table between the high-backed chairs was set with a old-style tea set.

"I had some tea delivered, so we could chat a bit more. I hope you don't mind." Richmond smiled as he shut the door. Trowa shrugged and walked across the room to take a seat. Richmond unbuttoned his jacket and hung it by the door before following Trowa and taking the seat across from him. Picking up the kettle, he poured a cup of tea first for Trowa and then for himself. Trowa picked up the small cup off it's fragile saucer and sipped at it. Peach tea again; his least favorite. This one wasn't quite as sweet though, so it was tolerable.

"Commander Barton, I spoke with Colonel Khushrenada today for a long time about you." Trowa set down his tea and turned his attention to Richmond. "I told him about the complains you and some of your squadron have voiced against the previous Commander Scott and he is pleased and even more certain now that he has made the correct decision in disposing of Scott as Commander. I also told him about the contrast I have witnessed today in how you interact with your squadron as opposed to other Commanders." He took a long sip of his tea, then set the cup back onto his saucer and then back onto the table. "Although I find you a bit too 'soft' with your cadets, especially the weaker ones, Colonel Treize seems quite pleased with your performance."

Trowa raised his eyebrow.

"Khushrenada and I both have different styles. Mine is much harsher and in my opinion, more effective and results-oriented. The Colonel, on the other hand, takes an approach much more similar to your style. Giving gentle pep-talks to pathetic cadets. He believes it breeds loyalty and intrinsic-motivation. I don't fully disagree. So I cannot count you off for that."

Trowa nodded. He'd hoped Richmond hadn't been paying attention during his exchange with Miller this afternoon and now his hopes seemed quite silly; he should have know that the man would be keeping a sharp eye on him all day.

"Honestly, I couldn't find much of anything to count you off for. Other than the little uploading incident with Miller, which you handled beautifully by the way, your performance was exceptional. Far above any other first day of a Commanding Officer I've had the pleasure of meeting. Reminds me much of myself, if you don't mind my saying." At that, Richmond chuckled to himself and took another long sip of his tea.

"How's the investigation going?" Trowa asked, a part of him unsure if it had been wise to even ask about it. He didn't want to seem concerned. But, even if he wasn't faking his documents, wouldn't any normal person be concerned?

"Oh, no need to worry about that. Treize had someone look into it and everything checks out. I had faith in our Admissions Team and am proven once again how capable they are." He set down his tea, "Are you relived?"

"Of course." Trowa leaned back in his chair, making himself a bit more comfortable. "I was beginning to worry I'd made some sort of mistake in filling out the paperwork. I've waited a long time to join OZ. I don't want silly errors getting in the way of my goals."

"What are your goals, Barton?"

Trowa paused, taken aback by the directness of Richmond's question. The real answer would be "Take down OZ and rid the world of it's evil influence" but that certainly wouldn't fly here. So he went with his character's response; "To become the best soldier I can be."

"Is that all? What about when the war is over?"

Trowa shrugged. That wasn't something he'd ever asked himself. War had been his entire life-the question of what he'd do after was unfathomable.

"I suppose I'd just go back to Germany. But I haven't really thought about that."

"How sad. So, you have no one to go back to?"

"Not particularly."

Richmond shook his head, a frown creasing his features. "Heartbreaking."

Trowa shrugged, irritated at Richmond's response. His answer was too close to reality and it stung-because there really wasn't anyone for him to go back to; no one he cared about. Except, of course, for Quatre. _Quatre, _he thought to himself. Oh how he missed the boy's kind smile and gentle eyes. Something about that kid made him so relaxed, he felt he could stay with him forever.

"I don't have anyone in particular either. My ex-wife is back on earth. We never had any children and even though I do care for her, she's not someone I can return to." Richmond leaned forward and grabbed Trowa's hand, which was resting on the armrest of his chair. Trowa's immediate response was to pull his hand away, but he resisted, remembering Richmond's anger for slapping it away this morning.

"Everyone I care for is up here, a part of OZ, right alongside me. To me, that is preferable."

Trowa felt as if his hand was burning at the man's touch and it took everything in him to keep from punching Richmond square in the nose. Richmond stroked the top of Trowa's hand with his thumb, then reached with his other hand to cup Trowa's in his.

"Do you agree?" He looked up at Trowa, his blue eyes swimming with emotion. Trowa wanted to gag and fought for something, anything to say that might distract the Colonel from moving any further in the direction things were headed. But, nothing came to mind and his tongue felt numb in his mouth. Completely useless, right when he needed it most.

Richmond smiled, a small chuckled escaping his lips. "For how authoritative you are with your cadets, you certainly are shy, aren't you Commander?"

Trowa wanted to tell him off. He wanted to scream. But he knew better. Nothing witty or worthy of speaking came to mind, so he clenched his jaw and kept quiet. Richmond scooted forward in his chair again so that he was sitting right at the edge, their knees now touching. Suddenly, he reached up and cupped Trowa's cheek. Trowa pulled his head back and it pressed into the back of the chair, leaving him no room to escape. Richmond stroked his cheek with his thumb, then ran the tip of his thumb along Trowa's bottom lip, staring him right in the eyes.

"You certainly are a beautiful creature. I could get lost in those eyes." Trowa lifted his chin and turned his head to the side. Richmond dropped his hand away, standing at the same time. A part of Trowa was relieved; thinking that Richmond was leaving. Instead though, the Colonel placed his hand on the back of the chair, grasped Trowa's chin with the other, and leaned in, kissing him urgently on the lips. Trowa pulled away, his mind now wrought with panic, but Richmond grasped his chin tighter and held him in place. Images of shoving, punching, or even kicking Richmond away flashed through his mind, but then the man's words came to mind.

_ "All that matters... is that I am pleased with you. If I'm not happy with you, your good Colonel Treize will be hearing about it."_

He couldn't risk losing Treize's favor; his entire mission depended on it. But, was this mission worth going through _this_?

Richmond leaned into the kiss a little harder now, using his tongue in an attempt to get him to open his mouth. At the same time, he took his hand off of Trowa's chin and slipped it between Trowa's legs. At that, Trowa jumped, pushing the Colonel's hand away and attempting to stand-to escape. Richmond shoved him back down by his shoulder and gasped the hair at the base of his neck, pulling his head up so that he could kiss him again.

"Mmmff!" Trowa could feel himself beginning to panic as Richmond shoved his tongue into his mouth. It took everything in him to keep from biting down and kicking the man right in the crotch. The last several months flashed through his mind; the hours of preparation, the study, the timing. All of it set up perfectly so that he could gain access to OZ, gain Treize's trust, and damage them from the inside before they even knew what hit them. If he retaliated now, it could all be over. All of that planning for nothing. But, what was he supposed to to, just take this? Was this mission really worth his dignity?

* * *

**What is poor Trowa gonna do? Please R&R to help me decide! Thank you for reading! **


	6. Bad News

"I can't handle you. You're gorgeous," Richmond half mumbled and half moaned as he continued his assault. Reaching down, he pulled at Trowa's belt and again slipped a hand between his legs. Trowa gasped, and Richmond took the opportunity to shove his tongue even deeper into Trowa's mouth. Holding onto his self control, Trowa squirmed in a feeble attempt to get the man off of him-but it was useless. If he didn't use force, Richmond's wasn't going to stop.

"Get up," Richmond pulled him onto his feet, wrapping his arms around him and kissing him again. Trowa stayed as rigid and uninviting as possible as the Colonel's hands felt their way down his shoulders, to his back, and finally to his rear, pulling their bodies tightly together with a groping squeeze. Quickly, he let go and began unbuttoning Trowa's blazer.

_I can't take this! I'm gonna fucking kill hi-_

Suddenly, a beeping sound went off from Richmond's jacket across the room. Richmond pulled away, breathing heavy, and turned to look at his jacket, irritation clear in his expression.

"Dammit," he mumbled to himself as he released his grip on Trowa and stalked across the room. Trowa allowed himself a quiet, desperate sigh and took a step into the center of the room, re-buttoning and straightening his uniform. There was no way for him to get out of this without pissing Richmond off, and that was not an option right now. So he had to accept that this was going to happen. Maybe there was a way he could convince the man _not_ to take things too far; but as of now, he couldn't see that happening. His only hope for the future, in case this happened again, was to get to Treize and inform him of Richmond's behavior. If Treize was reasonable, he'd at least attempt to understand Trowa's plight. Until then, though, he needed to keep Richmond happy.

"God dammit," Richmond said as swiped through his tablet, reading whatever it was that he'd received. "Just when I'm finally having a little fun. God damn you Treize." He quickly folded the tablet again and shoved it into his pocket, pulling the jacket back on. Was he... leaving? Trowa bit the inside of his lip, holding back the relief until he was certain that this nightmare was over.

"I'm so sorry Commander but I have to report to the medical bay," he turned and gazed at Trowa, his hair now slightly out of place and his breathing still heavy with excitement. "Don't you worry. We can continue this at a later date," Trowa nodded, trying not to look too thrilled. Richmond smiled and then rushed out the door and Trowa released a shaky breath. Walking to the door, he locked it tightly and leaned against it. _Thank God!_ He took a few deeps breaths, calming himself, then turned to stare up at the ceiling. This was not a part of the plan and a factor he had not anticipated while planning his infiltration. The question now was, how was he going to handle this? Richmond wasn't going to leave him alone; he could count on that. Maybe speaking with Treize would help-but maybe it would hurt. Maybe Treize was Richmond's best bud and saying anything to smear him would rub Treize the wrong way. _I can't talk to Treize. I can't do anything about this. I just have to take it if I want this mission to succeed. _Trowa shook his head, fists clenched. The thought made him furious. There was nothing he could do but avoid being alone with Richmond, which he already knew would be a useless endeavor. Richmond had it out for him, and that fact left him completely vulnerable.

The next day, Trowa woke with his squadron and accompanied them to breakfast. Every single cadet appeared much more ragged than yesterday, bags forming beneath their eyes and a slight droop to their stance. Tonight was going to be difficult, but he was certain they would get through it. After breakfast, he led them to the Combat Room for some hand-to-hand training.

"I'll assign you a partner with whom you will practice holds and escapes. You have fifteen minutes." Most of the cadets had their holds and escapes down perfect, and the ones who didn't, he'd placed with the more experienced members. Miller, who was weak in his hand-to-hand skills he had placed with Parker, who regularly scored the highest in the entire squadron. The next weakest was Xing, whom he placed with Johnson, Parker's friendly rival. Hands clasped behind his back, Trowa paced back and forth along the edge of the floor mats, watching and correcting and occasionally praising. Half way through practice, Richmond strode through the main entrance on the other side of the room, bee-lining to Trowa.

"Barton, how are you doing today?" he asked from afar, waving his hand. Trowa nodded back, standing at attention. "Stop with the formality, Barton. At ease," Richmond smiled and stood beside him, shifting his weight back and forth between his feet and looking energetically at each cadet.

"You seem to be having a good morning," Trowa raised his eyebrow, hoping the Colonel's energy had nothing to do with what had happened between them last night.

"Oh, yes, I am. Something very exciting happened last night."

Trowa held back a frown, managing to raise his eyebrow to appear curious. Whatever could get Richmond so excited was probably not something good.

"But, I'm not gonna spill the beans just yet. As soon as I'm cleared to bring you in on it, I'll let you know."

"Of course," Trowa turned back to face his cadets, an unease settling in his stomach. Was Richmond going to stick around longer-was that why he was so excited? Or was it something bigger-something to do with the war? Whatever it was, it couldn't be good.

"Miller, put a little more force into it!" Trowa yelled, trying to distract himself now. Speculating wouldn't get him anywhere.

"Yes sir!" Miller said as he held Parker in a loose strangle-hold. The scene was rather comical, since Parker was so much larger than the young cadet. Miller used his body weight to pull Parker back, attempting to knock him to the ground. After a couple of tries, he managed to sweep Parker's feet out from under him and twist his arms, so that he had Parker down on his chest, completely helpless.

"That's better, keep working on it," Trowa said. Parker sat up and pat Miller on the back, smiling. Miller shrugged and they re-positioned themselves to practice again. After holds, Trowa randomly paired the squadron and had them spar for five minutes each. After finishing with one partner, they would rotate to the next one and fight again. As lunchtime neared, the cadets grew more and more weary. Exhaustion was setting in and Trowa knew that if he kept them any longer, they wouldn't be able to handle what he had planned for them next. A half an hour early, Trowa stopped them and had them leave to shower and take a short break. Everyone was silent, but he could see the gratefulness in their eyes.

"You're harder on them than Scott. How is this 'better' than what he was doing?" Richmond asked, seeming genuinely interested. Trowa and he had separated from the squadron and were heading to lunch a bit early.

"I encourage camaraderie and I respect their limits. I also respect them."

"I would have to agree that you do all of those things. I suppose, I just don't see how that makes them any better," Richmond shrugged. "But Colonel Treize likes your style, so I'll let you keep on doing what you're doing!" He smiled, patting Trowa on the back. At lunch, they began discussing combat again. When the cadets reported to the cafeteria, the conversation switched to politics to include the other Commanders who were now beginning to sit at their table. Trowa found it surprisingly easy to speak as if he were an OZ supporter and an advocate of the "Greater Good." The hours he'd spent studying OZ propaganda and other popular enthusiasts had paid off-he even managed to challenge Richmond in some of his ideas.

"You mean to imply that opponents are _inhuman?_"

Trowa laughed, "No, Colonel. Not inhuman. But, they have sacrificed their rights as humans in the eyes of OZ. They are enemies. Enemies should not be treated with the same respect as we treat fellow humans."

"That is very harsh, Barton. But I see your point. Their unwillingness to offer the freedom we offer to all of humanity is a self-centered and self-focused way of living and thinking. Honestly, anyone that is against our way of thinking is just selfish, and that is all!" Richmond shook his head and took a drink of his tea. Some of the other Commanders nodded in agreement, even though Trowa was pretty sure they weren't fully convinced. _This is how your leaders think_, he thought as if he were speaking to them. They were ignorant. They didn't fully understand what sort of an organization OZ actually was. They were only interested in their own advancement through the ranks.

"Exactly," Trowa went on, "Obviously, we should do everything in our power to convert them. But it has to be a true conversion and if they cannot convert, there is no place for them."

"Not even Treize will see it that way. He believes everyone can be convinced, given enough time. He's a bit of a sap, in my opinion."

Trowa shrugged, noticing a look of annoyance on some of the Commanders' faces. Hearing someone speak about Treize like that, no matter who he was, wasn't something they appreciated, "He may be right. I'm uncertain. But, I do believe that sometimes death must be dealt in order to make people understand."

Richmond nodded in agreement, smirking, "You're much more ruthless than I thought you were, Commander. Here I thought you were too kind-hearted. But, you're just that way with your loyal children. The people who oppose you are certainly in dire straights."

Trowa shook his head, _You have no idea how right you are, Colonel Richmond. _Trowa allowed himself a moment to fantasize killing Richmond-with Heavyarms, or even a gun. Either would be satisfying. Checking the time, he stood to address his squadron, who was now finishing up with lunch and clearing their trays.

"Xeta Squadron. You have ten minutes to report to the Holo Room." He yelled. Other squadrons were still sitting and eating, their mouths now hanging open at the mention of the Holo Room. Word had likely been spread around about what he'd subjected them to yesterday, and now he was sending them there again. But, this was why Xeta was the best: he expected more from his squadron than any of the other Commanders did of their own squadrons.

"Yes sir!" Xeta said in unison.

The Holo Room was just as Trowa had left it yesterday. From what he could tell, no one else had touched it during the first half of the day.

"Take a seat and upload," Trowa said, looking at Miller pointedly, "And do it right." Miller nodded, seeming nervous now. The feeling in the room was tense, as if they were actually about to go into battle. _This isn't even close to how it feels, _Trowa shook his head, _You guys have a lot to learn. _"I will randomly assign your teams and select commanders based on the highest scoring members of each team." Everyone nodded in understanding as they took their seats. After uploading successfully, he called their names into his headset and assigned ranks based on scores and personal abilities. No hiccups yet.

Richmond moved from the corner and pulled one of the rolling chairs out from underneath one of the command stations. After rolling it over right behind Trowa, he took a seat, stuffing his folded tablet into his jacket pocket.

"I'd like to get a better look at how you program this thing," Richmond said. Trowa glanced back at him, feeling the hair raising on the back of his neck. Richmond breathing down his neck was_ not _an ideal way of spending his day. Maybe Richmond would get bored and leave.

"Show me how you track their vitals," Richmond scooted his chair up next to Trowa, making him feel slightly claustrophobic now. The desk was enclosed on one side, and now Richmond was trapping him in the corner. Trowa switched off his headset so the cadets wouldn't be able to hear him.

"Yes sir," Trowa said, "One moment," and switched on his headset again. "Alright troops, gear up. The game is now in your hands. I will be monitoring your vitals from here." After turning off the headset and setting it down, he pulled up Parker's vitals. The dark screen showed a diagram of a brain, heart and lungs, with color radiating off of each one as it functioned.

"So, all the brain activation is because of the simulation?"

"Well, not all of it. It's certainly more active than a normal brain though, because of the simulation," Trowa performed a variety of complex keystrokes, pulling up a page filled with numbers and diagrams. "This is our Empath-Chart, which basically lists the less-vital, yet still important mental functions of the individual. If you see here, cadet Parker is experiencing significantly lower levels of anxiety than his teammates."

"Most likely because of all the practice he put in with you," Richmond said.

"Possibly. But the very fact that he was willing to put in more time here makes me wonder if he's always had a lower propensity to anxiety," Trowa responded.

"Would your vitals look like this?" Richmond smiled flirtatiously. Trowa didn't smile back, and instead shrugged.

"Possibly. Simulations don't affect me much." It was likely because of all the time he'd spent hooked up to Heavyarms; his brain was used to being intimately connected to a computer system.

"Why is that, Commander?" Richmond leaned in closer, "What's your secret?" he whispered. Trowa worried for a moment that Richmond might have found him out and knew that he was hiding something. Had he actually managed to dig something up while investigating Trowa's enrollment application? _No, he's just flirting. There's no way he found anything._

"Maybe I'm just a calm person," Trowa answered.

Richmond smiled, reaching over and stroking Trowa's hair away from his face. Instinctively, Trowa pulled away and Richmond frowned, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. Before Trowa could think, Richmond slapped him hard in the face, causing a loud SMACK to echo through the quiet room. All of the cadets perfectly unaware as they laid in their chairs. The sound continued to echo through Trowa's mind as he fought to keep from slugging Richmond back as hard as he could, right in the nose. Slowly, Trowa lifted his head, refusing to touch his stinging cheek, and glared straight into Richmond's eyes.

"What have we already discussed?" Richmond asked, an angry look still in his eyes.

"That I keep you happy," Trowa responded dully, struggling to keep the storm he felt inside from showing in his expression.

"Correct. Which means, you do whatever I want, do you understand?"

"Yes," Trowa clenched his jaw as Richmond leaned in, kissing him again. Trowa stiffened, using all of his willpower to keep from snapping Richmond's neck. This time the man took his time with the kiss; tracing his tongue along the bottom of Trowa's lip, then planting little butterfly kisses on his cheek where he'd just been slapped. _This is way worse than being slapped, _Trowa thought to himself, fighting to stay unaffected. Richmond turned Trowa in his chair, using his hands to rub Trowa's chest and then pull him closer. Trowa's heart sped up, sending his mind reeling. It was already horrible enough being forced into this, and now his body was beginning to betray him.

"It's not my fault I can't control myself around you," Richmond whispered, "You're just so beautiful."

"Sir, I understand that." Trowa began, "But I need to monitor my cadet's vitals while they're in simulation. Anything could go wrong."

Richmond frowned, responding with another kiss. Slowly he moved his hands from Trowa's chest, to his crotch, using his other hand to pull Trowa to the edge of his seat. Trowa placed one hand on Richmond's wrist and the other on his shoulder, in a weak attempt to hold him back. _What the hell am I supposed to do? Run an tell Treize? That seems so childish. But, he's keeping me from doing my job. I can't keep this up!_

Suddenly, a scream echoed through the room-the first death of the battle. Richmond didn't seem to notice at first, still deep in the kiss. Trowa glanced over as Miller sat up in his chair, breathing hard and looking desperately around the room, finally locking onto them, eyes wide.

_Great, this is just great. _

Richmond slowly pulled away, running his hand through his hair and smiling as he winked at Trowa. Trowa sat up straight, adjusting his jacket and glancing at Miller again, catching him staring.

_Shit, _Trowa felt his stomach flip. Miller turned away, staring down at the floor, panting as he worked to regain his composure. Trowa also work to regain his composure as he calmed his breathing as pulled on his headset. The embarrassment was nothing compared to Trowa's fury; all Trowa could think about were different ways he'd like to murder Richmond: slit his throat, snap his neck, light him on fire. Any one of those would be satisfying. _I need to keep busy or I might actually do that, _Trowa typed out some commands to bring up the battle footage, rewinding it so he could comment on Miller's actions leading up to his early death.

"You certainly know your way around that thing," Richmond commented. Trowa pretended he didn't hear him. Miller swiveled his screen around to read his comments, but Trowa hadn't made any yet, so he sat and waited, staring at his hands as if he were deep in thought. Trowa wondered what the cadet might be pondering-the battle, or what he'd witnessed _after_ the battle? Miller had sacrifice himself in order to save his entire platoon; a noble move given his extreme anxiety before and after simulations. Despite the boy's weaknesses, he was very strong in character and Trowa made sure to comment on that, even though Richmond was leaning in and reading every word. Trowa did his best to ignore the man, sending his comments off to Miller and then glossing over footage to make comments about the decisions and tactical maneuvers of the rest of the squadron. After catching up, he took a moment to breath, and then fantasize about smashing Richmond with Heavyarms' big metal foot.

Another scream rang through the metal room. This time Xing had been killed, one of Miller's teammates. Even though that team had suffered the only losses so far, they were at a greater advantage than the other team. Trowa noted that Xing's death was necessary for the "Greater good" and that Xing had made the correct decision to sacrifice himself. Using OZ jargon was not difficult to accompany what he saw as a good trait in Xing-selflessness. Slowly, the battle came to a head, Miller's team taking victory. Trowa attributed much of the victory to Miller's tactical ability.

"Great work Xeta. I know that battle suffered heavy losses on both sides, but the victory for Xeta One was worth it," Trowa nodded to Miller. Miller half-smiled and turned to stare at the floor.

"Dismiss your squadron, Commander," Richmond muttered under his breath, looking pointedly at Trowa. Trowa turned to stare at him, aghast. He had been planning on dismissing them, but now it would look like he was only doing it because Richmond ordered him to. _So now your usurping my authority with my cadets, hm?_

"Sir?"

"Dismiss your squadron to the showers and then to dinner. We can discuss tactics later, after they're rested."

_He's trying to get me alone again._ Trowa clenched his fist, trying not to show any emotion in his face. Slowly, turned to his squadron, trying to keep up his calm facade. "You have thirty minutes to shower and get yourselves down to dinner. After dinner, report to Conference Room 48."

"Yes sir!" The cadets all said as they climbed out of their chairs. Parker helped Miller out of his chair and together they walked across the room, stepping carefully over bundles of wires to the locker room. As they passed by, Miller gazed at Trowa with what could only be interpreted as concern. Trowa looked away, training his eyes on the other cadets, and attempting to ignore Miller's acknowledgement of what he'd seen. After the majority of the cadets left the room, Trowa made a move to follow them, but Richmond grasped him tightly by his bicep and held him in place.

"I have something to tell you," Richmond smiled, "So stay in here." Trowa could feel his anxiety welling up in his chest. _Not again. _This time, he probably wouldn't be so lucky with the interruptions that had forced Richmond off of him. Finally, every cadet had disappeared down the hallway to the locker room and Richmond turned to face Trowa, smiling.

"I just revived a message from Colonel Treize. Would you like to know what he said?"

Trowa raised his eyebrow, unable to will himself to speak.

Richmond's eyes were sparkling with excitement, "You're never going to believe it, but, we've captured a gundam pilot!"


	7. The Worst Best Idea Ever

**Sorry it took so long to get this chapter out! My life became suddenly very busy and I was having to edit my manuscript at the same time as writing this! Gosh! Here you are, please R&R! If you have any suggestions for what you'd like to happen, please let me know! ;)**

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Trowa could feel his jaw clench and his back stiffen, already fighting the physical effects of the news. _A gundam pilot? How? Who is it? _His chest tightened when Quatre's face came to mind. _No, please not Quatre._

"The message I received just now was Colonel Treize. He was letting me know that I could let you in on all of this," Richmond winked. "We have just moved the gundam pilot from the medical bay to his cell. The reason I had to leave last night in such a hurry was because of all of this. I really am very sorry I couldn't tell you earlier." His apology sounded so sincere, and so caring. Yet, Trowa could clearly see the sadistic excitement in his eyes. Richmond was a psychopath and he wasn't just going to torment Trowa anymore; he was going to torment whatever poor pilot had been captured. The thought made Trowa sick to his stomach.

"How did we capture him?" Trowa asked, attempting the most even tone possible. It took everything he had inside to keep from smashing Richmond's face into the wall and snapping his neck.

"There was a rather large space battle near L1 a couple of nights ago. There were two gundam pilots there, wreaking havoc on our forces, of course. One of our men managed to get a good shot in and neutralize the gundam. After that, they pried open the cockpit door and took him prisoner. The other gundam had already fled by then."

_One of the pilots left another behind? _It didn't sound right. Trowa knew all of them, and none of them were cowards. Not the type to leave a fellow soldier behind. There had to be an explanation. _Maybe it was necessary for the mission. Even I would do that,_ Trowa told himself-even though he knew it wasn't true. If Quatre were ever in danger, he couldn't see a single situation where he could stomach leaving the blonde behind; mission or no mission.

"Is he in good enough shape to feed us information?" Trowa asked.

"Yes, he wasn't injured too badly during battle. I think he was just in shock or had a concussion, or something. Thank God, his good looks are still in tact!" Richmond chuckled. Trowa felt the urge to strangle him.

"Which pilot is he? Zero?"

"Unfortunately, no." Richmond shook his head, "Our main target is still out there, bent on destruction. It was the less destructive one... um, 04. I think the gundam is called Sandrock?" Would you like to go see him? He really is quite beautiful." Richmond walked off, beckoning Trowa to follow. Trowa couldn't move for a moment, the news like a punch in the gut. When Richmond reached the door, Trowa forced his stiff legs to carry him forward, following Richmond down the corridor and through the Great Hall. _Quatre's been captured..._ his stomach was turning into a knotted mess the more he thought about it. _What am I going to do?_ From the Great Hall, they took an elevator down into the lower sections of the ship, following more meandering hallways until they finally reached an unmarked door. Trowa had never been in this section of the ship, but he'd heard the nickname from several of the Commanders: the Vault. The area was used for multiple functions: including scientific experimentation, research, and torture.

"Here we are!" Richmond swiped his key-card and the door let out a hiss as it slid open. "You've never been over here, have you Commander? Well, it certainly is a site to behold. We have so many exciting things hidden away." Trowa followed, his throat dry and palms sweating. A glass window to his right revealed an unconscious, unidentifiable human surrounded by white-coats as they probed with metal objects. It wasn't Quatre, but the sight was still made his stomach churn. Further down the hallway were doors leading off to "Live Animal Experiments," and "Specimen Holding," and even a door labeled "Intelligence Research," which Richmond led him through. Apparently, research for intelligence included the torture of prisoners of war.

"We haven't started on him yet. I wanted you to take a look into his gorgeous eyes first. I could hardly believe that something as innocent as he, something so beautiful, could be a gundam pilot. Here I'd been envisioning this big, ugly monster with fangs." Richmond laughed, turning sharply down another corridor. "It's is a pity, that something as gorgeous as he will have to be left to such an awful fate. Really, Commander, I certainly feel regretful. But, I am going to ask Treize if we might be granted the privilege of reveling in his wondrous innocence before we ruin him for information."

_Don't you dare touch Quatre! _Trowa wanted to scream, but held back, clenching his fist and readying himself to smash Richmond's head in. _Don't do it, Trowa. You need time to think this over. _Trowa shook his head, _But, if I give them any time at all, they might kill him! _After a few deeps breaths, he managed to get a hold of himself. _I need to be smart about this. I can't go bashing Richmond's head int, no matter how tempting the idea sounds... At least, not yet. _Suddenly, Richmond stopped at one of the many doors lining the hallway. It was labeled with plastic number: "004."

"We chose this cell specifically for him. It seems fitting, don't you think?" Richmond swiped his card, pushing the door open and taking a step inside. Trowa followed him, his body stiff with anticipation. The room was around ten feet by ten feet in size with a high ceiling, and completely white: white walls, ceiling, and floors. Quatre was standing with his hands behind his back, leaning against the far wall and dressed in white scrubs, his big blue eyes gazing at them with distrust. Other than a few scrapes and bruises, he appeared to be in perfect physical health. A weight seemed to lift off of his shoulders, and he had to fight a sigh.

"Good evening, 04. How are you doing?"

Quatre's eyes flicked from Richmond to Trowa and then back to Richmond. Suddenly, he looked at Trowa again, his eyes growing wide and mouth falling open. At first, he looked as if he might say something, but he caught himself and dropped his chin to stare at the ground. Whatever was going through his head, whether he saw Trowa as a traitor or an angel in disguise; he'd chosen _not _to blow Trowa's cover. _Smart move, Quatre, _Trowa thought, _My position here could be the reason you survive._

"I asked you a question boy, it would be wise of you to answer." Richmond shut the door.

Quatre shrugged, "I'm alright," his voice was soft. Trowa felt his heart melt and had to fight the overwhelming urge to cross the room and wrap his arms around the boy.

"We just came by to see how you were doing," Richmond said, smiling, and then turned to Trowa. "Isn't he just beautiful?" All Trowa could think was _Yes, of course! _But he forced himself to shrug, unsure of what to say. "Don't act like you don't think so." Richmond frowned. "I can understand if _I'm_ not your type, but this boy has got to be!"

"He's fine," Trowa said. Looking at Richmond now with an impatient expression.

"_Fine?_" Richmond's jaw dropped open, "Well, maybe you just need to get a taste of him, like I have." He pointed to Quatre. "Go and give him a kiss. A good long one."

'_Like I have?' _Trowa thought, fury welling up in his chest. _I'm gonna kill him if he's hurt Quatre! I'll kill him! _Suddenly, Richmond's order clicked in his mind and he felt his face heat up. Kiss Quatre? In front of Richmond? Not only was the request embarrassing, it was humiliating and degrading to him and to Quatre.

"Do you really think Treize would approve of the way you're treating me?" Trowa asked, his fists clenched but voice calm.

Richmond raised his eyebrow, "Do you really think Treize will believe your story over mine?"

Trowa frowned.

"Exactly. Now do as I say if you want to keep your coveted position as Commander. There are other individuals in your squadron that I would be happy to promote into your position. Parker is quite capable."

"That won't be necessary," Trowa said. Maintaining his position was his only chance at saving Quatre's life right now, which was worth much more than both of their dignity. Trowa crossed the room, stiff and businesslike, standing firmly in front of Quatre.

"Make it a good one," Richmond said. Trowa could feel his face heating up and did everything in his power to fight it. _Think about something else, anything else. Richmond can't see any emotion from you, none! Keep your mind off of Quatre. Think about smashing Richmond with Heavyarms, blowing his body to bits, and letting the spattered remains float away, deep into space... _

Quatre's head was tilted down, his shoulders hunched forward and hands behind his back. Trowa was terrified to touch him, not only because he felt it was infringing upon the blonde's rights as a human being, but also because this was something he'd wanted to do for so long; but never under these circumstances. Sure, Quatre had rejected him, but a part of Trowa had hoped the boy would come around. Likely, after this, he would never be able to see Trowa in that way. _Keep thinking about Richmond-about killing him; stabbing him in the eyes and watching him writhe in pain. _Trowa reached down and touched the bottom of Quatre's chin. Quatre tilted his head up and stared deep into his eyes as Trowa waited for some sort of permission. _I'm watching Richmond bleed, writhe, and scream in pain, blood pouring from his eye-sockets, _Trowa told himself. Quatre gave a nearly undetectable nod and Trowa leaned in, catching Quatre's lips in his.

Again, Trowa could feel a warm buzz welling up in his chest and into his face. Gently, he places his hand on Quatre's chin, pressing him lightly against the wall and leaning into the kiss even deeper. The fact that Quatre wasn't kissing back made it that much more difficult and awkward, but Trowa had to make it good; for Richmond, whom he was still imagining murdering. After a moment, he pulled away and caught Quatre's eye; the only way he could even attempt an apology. Quatre seemed to be blushing now. _God, he's so beautiful... _Trowa couldn't keep the bleeding image of Richmond in his mind and allowed it to fade away into nothing. Passionately, he leaned in and kissed Quatre again. The blonde gasped, and Trowa took advantage, slipping his tongue into Quatre's mouth and pressing him harder against the wall. Quatre attempted to pull away, his hands flying up to Trowa's shoulders, and turning his head to break the kiss. Trowa continued his onslaught down the boy's neck, and after reaching his collar bone, ran a hand through his blonde hair and grasped him firmly at the nape of his neck. Catching Quatre's lips in his, he kissed and kissed and kissed as the boy struggled against him. Finally, Trowa released him and stepped back, straightening his uniform as Quatre pressed back even further into the wall, his eyes wide and shimmering. It had been almost too brief, yet, disturbingly wonderful. _I'll fucking kill you Richmond,_ he thought, staring Quatre in the eyes. I_ promise, Quatre. I'll kill him. I'm sorry._

"That was magnificent!" Richmond clapped, "Please, tell me what you think of him now. I need to hear it." Quatre was trembling, staring at the ground. Trowa looked at Richmond, maintaining his cold, emotionless mask. There was only one way he could respond that might make all of this stop, and it was to tell Richmond what he wanted to hear.

"You're right, he's wonderful."

"I knew you'd come around!" Richmond whirled around and headed for the door. "Now, lets get back to work. We have some cadets to debrief. I'll put in a request to authorize you to come in here with me, when we have to begin extracting information."

_'Extracting information...' _Trowa glanced back at Quatre, feeling sick to his stomach. Quatre was now hugging himself and leaning against the wall, probably feeling violated. A part of Trowa knew he should feel guilty for what he'd done, but he had enjoyed it too much and was too worried about everything else Quatre had in store now. _What I did was nothing compared to what he will go through if I don't do something..._ _Extracting information by torture... it's inevitable._ Trowa shook his head as he followed Richmond back through he winding halls of the Vault. _It's inevitable, but, __I can't let that-no, I _won't_ let that happen._ Trowa clenched his fist as a new-found resolution and passion settled over him._ Screw this fucking war. Screw my mission. None of that is as important as someone so pure... someone who has so much to offer all the people of the colonies. I have to be smart about this. I have a new mission now: to get Quatre the hell out of here!_

Once everyone settled down in Conference Room 48, Trowa allowed himself a moment to relax. Leaving Quatre in that room had been the most difficult thing he'd ever done, and allowing him to stay in there, without any way of defending himself, was almost just as excruciating. Anyone with clearance could go in there and hurt him. Anyone who felt like having a little "fun" with someone who nobody was looking out for. Hell, Richmond already had plans for violating Quatre. _What if he goes in there later tonight, after I put the squadron in their barracks? _Trowa had seen the sadistic longing in Richmond's eyes. Sure, Richmond had mentioned he'd let Trowa in on the action, but, Trowa worried Richmond would want to take some time to be with Quatre alone. That couldn't happen, and Trowa had to make sure it didn't happen.

"Alright, everyone. Settle down. You've had some time to look over the notes I've left you and you've had time to process them. I'm going to replay some battle highlights and then get your feedback and reasoning before I offer further critiques," Trowa said, hoping his cadets couldn't tell how unhinged he felt. It was difficult to stay present when all he wanted to do was think about how he might help Quatre. How could he discuss basic battle techniques with his cadets, though, when he needed to plan for Quatre's escape?

"This was the beginning of the end for Xeta Two, when Miller left his cover and had Xeta Two chase him through the asteroid field. Sure, Miller ended up dead, but that left Two in a vulnerable place. Miller, please give me your comments on this. Was it purposeful? You hadn't consulted with any of your teammates, so how did you know they would know what to do?"

Miller pushed out his chair and stood up, clearing his throat and shifting his weight back and forth. "I managed to pick up a blurb of communication from Xeta Two's commander about the squadron's location. I knew that if I lead them into the asteroid field just a few clicks away, my squadron would run into them from behind. I hoped maybe I could hide in the field too, but as you can see from the footage, I wasn't so lucky," he shrugged. "Once I arrive among the boulders, I sent Commander Parker here a message informing him of Two's location and was shortly thereafter, disposed of." Again, he cleared his throat and finally sat down. Parker had been sitting beside Miller and pat him heavily on the back.

"Nice work buddy, you're the reason we won!"

"Thanks," Miller said, a smile crossing his lips. Suddenly, he glanced at Trowa, his eyes wide, and then he looked away, a shy look on his face. Trowa frowned, certain that Miller was remembering what he'd seen after his simulated death: Trowa's struggle against Richmond as the man held him in a rough kiss. Certainly, Miller didn't think it had been consensual. Surely, he didn't think Trowa was like that... _Not with disgusting people like Richmond, _he thought, cringing inside. Just then, an idea hit him-a horrifying, unpleasant, yet unavoidably effective idea. Just the thought of it disgusted him, but the more he considered it, the more he realized that it was necessary; that if he didn't go through with it, there was no way he could protect Quatre.

"Any other comments? Xeta?" Trowa asked, hoping no one could hear the trebling in his voice. The room stayed silent, so Trowa moved on to the next sequence of events. The debrief took over two hours and Trowa spent every extra moment between thoughts attempting to find alternatives to the realization he'd had-anything that would help him in his endeavor to protect Quatre. But there was nothing as effective nor as immediate in effect as his original idea. At the conclusion of their meeting, Trowa found himself relieved, for the first time, that Richmond had sat with him through the entire thing. _At least I know where he is-he's not with Quatre._

"Thank you, everyone, for your contributions to your teammates. This type of discussion is invaluable when it comes to real-life scenarios. Now, report to your barracks in 10 minutes for sleep." The cadets saluted and began filing out of the room. Trowa turned to Richmond, who was standing up and placing his tablet into his suit jacket.

"I'll be off now," Richmond said, smiling at Trowa. "I need to discuss a few things with the Colonel, and then I might pay our little pilot a visit." He winked.

Struck with terror, Trowa scoured his mind for something, anything to say to keep Richmond from going to see Quatre. But, there was nothing, absolutely nothing he could say to convince Richmond to leave Quatre alone... unless, of course, he went with the idea he'd had earlier. The thought made him sick, but there was no other way. _There's no other goddamn way, _he thought, gritting his teeth.

Discreetly as possible, Trowa leaned in and whispered to Richmond, "I've been anxious this entire debriefing."

Richmond gave him a curious look as he folded his tablet, and stuffed it into his jacket pocket, "What ever for, Commander?"

"I can't stop thinking about that pilot," Trowa said, biting the inside of his lip. Richmond's eyes grew wide and a smile spread across his face. Glancing around, he pat Trowa on the shoulder.

"Well, well. You weren't just making it up! You did like him?"

Trowa did his best to appear shy, unsure if he was pulling it off. "Yes. I want to spend some time with you, to ask a few questions about him; whenever is appropriate. I..." Trowa paused, sickened by what he was about to say, "I was curious about his sexual history."

"What ever do you mean?"

"Well, I..." Trowa waited a moment as the last cadet left the room, "...I could tell earlier, that he probably hasn't had much experience. I find that appealing."

Richmind's disgusting smile turned into an even more sickening grin, each and every one of his teeth gleaming in the florescent light. "My my, you little devil. You like getting the innocent one's dirty, don't you?"

Trowa smiled and shrugged, appearing as nonchalant as possible.

"Well, I don't want to be the first to take him, if that is your fancy. That would be so rude of me. But, what would I get out of letting you go first... hmm?"

_I can't believe I'm doing this... Goddamn it. _Trowa leaned forward, allowing a nearly undetectable smirk to grace his lips as he held Richmond's gaze. "Well, we could discuss that in my room after we check on the cadets. If you have a moment." It was the most terrifying idea he'd ever come up with-but also one of the most necessary. There was nothing more effective than befriending an enemy and giving Richmond the opportunity to have his way with Trowa was the best way to do that.

Richmond gave a knowing smile and nodded. "Of course I have the time Commander. I always have the time for _you,_" he said, winking. "You go put your cadets to bed and I'll go up and have a quick chat with Treize about the gundam pilot. After that, I'll be right over to your barracks. How does that sound?" Trowa felt uneasy about letting Richmond out of his sight. But there was nothing else he could do. He had to trust that Richmond would do as he said he would do, and he had to trust that his plan was going to work. As long as he kept his end of the deal and gave Richmond what he wanted, things would be OK.

Trowa smiled and nodded, fighting the sickening feeling that was sitting like a rock in his stomach. "That sounds perfect. See you in a few minutes."

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**Thanks for reading guys. What should happen next? ;)**


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